Where You Stand
by Conveyus Prime
Summary: [BW] Primal confronts the hero of the day about his uncharacteristic display of bravery. Takes place after the episode "A Better Mousetrap". Thanks to Warlord-Xana for the suggestion!


"I didn't know you had it in you, Rattrap."

The Maximal rat in beast mode whirls around abruptly at Optimus Primal's voice, nearly dropping a holo-frame in the process. Tall he may be compared to a true rat, he's still only half the Maximal leader's height even standing on his hind legs. "Would ya KNOCK next time, Boss Monkey? You never know what I might be doin'."

Primal offers a small smile as he leans a shoulder against the doorjam of Rattrap's quarters, folding his arms over his chestplate. "I'm sorry, I hadn't realized you were busy."

"Eeeeeh." Rattrap hand-wobbles. "Busy-work, more like. Ain't used t' gettin' praised for somethin', so figured I'd keep t' myself 'till it all blows over an' everyone hates my guts again." He turns away to resume straightening up his quarters. "Anyways. Ain't ya got other Maximals to bug?"

"Rhinox is repairing the damage to Sentinel's command station. The others are either out on patrol or helping Tigatron deal with the hole the Predacons left behind." Primal's crimson optics narrow incrimentally as his tone turns more serious. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you privately."

Rattrap hesitates for a few moments, a paw resting on his berth as his beady eyes stare down at the frame in his other paw. With a long sigh, he sets down the item and transforms to robot mode without a verbal activation. "C'mon in, then. Let's git this over with."

Primal straightens and fully enters Rattrap's quarters, the doors swishing closed and locking behind him. The Maximal leader doesn't seem to mind, leaning his back against those same doors as his arms re-fold over his chestplate. "So you knew I would stop by?"

"Yeah." Rattrap continues to clean up as he talks. "I could tell Sentinel was programmed t' foil standard infiltration methods and procedures - both Maximal and Predacon. Y'know, th' stuff ya learn by th' book or in an Academy. It should'a caught anyone - be 'impenetrable', was it?" He raises an optic-ridge as he looks over his shoulder at his superior officer. "Which means you're bugged by th' whole shebang, ain'tcha?"

Primal's blue face quirks in an uneasy smile. "Am I that easy to read?"

"Naw." Rattrap hops up onto his berth, idily kicking his heels against the side of the base. "Wasn't that long ago you sent me t' infiltrate th' Preds' base, an' now I've proven I can successfully infiltrate th' Axalon too. If I didn't know better, I'd almost start thinkin' you're questionin' me an' my loyalties after all."

Primal's optics flicker as he frowns. "Rattrap, I didn't mean-."

"I know ya don't, an' that ain't what I'm tryin' t' get at. That's th' whole," he makes air-quotes with his fingers, "'If I didn't know better' part." He rubs the back of his helm with one hand. "Look, Fearless Leader. Not all of us are kids like Cheetor. Some of us've been 'round th' block, so t' speak."

"Like you?"

Rattrap's own optics turn off-and-on in an emoted blink, taken off-guard by Primal's sudden interjection. He cracks a smile after a few seconds, though. "Eeeeh, you could say that." He folds his hands behind his helm. "Look, nothin' personal, but you're overthinkin' everythin'. It's yer first command an' we're all new to each other t' boot. I get it. But we're startin' t' gel on this rockball." He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, scowling as Dinobot's face crosses his mind. "Some better than others."

Primal tilts his helm to one side as his chin dips. "Fair enough." He turns as if about to leave, but pauses as the door unlocks. "You know... I heard rumors in the Command Academy before I graduated. They claim the Maximal Elders secretly assign a Veteran of the Great War to the crew of every mission-bound ship. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"

"Pfffffft." Rattrap waves off the question. "Sounds like th' cadets were tellin' spook-stories over their Energon, keepin' each other on th' up-an'-up. Iiiii wouldn't put too much thought into it." He vaults off his berth with a kick of his legs. "Even if it WAS true, you'd think tha' havin' someone with that much experience on a brand-new crew would be a GOOD thing, wouldn't ya?"

Optimus Primal chuckles, but there's something a little off in the sound. A deeper undertone that implies untold knowledge of his own. "I suppose you're right." He motions to the control panel for the door, which swooshes open. "Thanks for your time, Rattrap."

"Anytime, Primal," Rattrap replies with a cheeky two-fingered salute from his brow. As soon as the doors close, though, the infiltrator's expression sombers as he picks up the holoframe from earlier. The displayed image is, of course, of himself back on Cybertron - before he got his organic alternate form.

"Heh." He smiles, though it's more of a pained grin that splits his face. His accent noticeably thickens as his voice drops to a whisper. "I wond'a what'd ya think'a me if youse could see me now," He tightens his grip on the frame, fingers pressing a sequence of tiny hidden buttons, and the image changes to a bust-shot of a boxy Great War-era mech - royal blue with a red visor and a Decepticon insignia prominent on the glass-window chest, "Boss."


End file.
